As Old As Drink
by Era-Age
Summary: History, adventure, horror, and tragedy: These are the genres with which Gideon, Prince of Albion, is most familiar. Books, he knows. History, he knows better. Yet even with his knowledge of the past, he will realize that none of it will prepare him for the present or future. It is a rebellion of brothers and blood. Chaos has seeped into the very clockwork of Albion: Her people.


_Hi! This is my first attempt at a Fable fanfiction; I've had this idea in my head for a while, but never really knew where to go with it. I believe that after drowning myself in music, particularly Two Steps From Hell, and rereading The Great Gatsby, I've finally figured out a decent plot for this story. Aha! This is an AU and will not strictly follow the game's plot or dialogues. Fable belongs to Lionheadstudios, but As Old As Drink and any OC in here belongs to me. Enjoy! :)_

* * *

"Master Gideon, pardon my intrusion, Your Royal Highness, but it _is _time to rise. With your permission, I shall wake your sleeping companion." Jasper lifted the covers off of the bed, a brow arching at the scene before him: Blankets had been bundled and rolled beneath the quilt to take on a rough human shape, and pillows had been stacked to represent the prince's furry friend. "What a dreadfully sorry sight," the butler sighed before placing the bedding back in its proper place.

A snicker at the prince's door drew his attention, and he turned to see one of the maids doing her best _not _to hide her smirk. "Heard you were the one to rouse His Highness today," she chuckled. "Poor man you are, Jasper, finding nothing but sheets and pillow cases instead." She snorted when the butler discovered a few books with worn spines beneath a pillow. "Up all last night reading he was, no doubt. You know the prince is one for the liter'ture."

"Indeed he is, madam," Jasper said. He placed the books back onto their shelves, alphabetizing the prince's favorites once more. "I trust you are well today, Madam Fisher?"

"Sally," the maid huffed, crossing her arms and tapping her duster against her hip. "I'm just as old as you, old man Jasper, if not older, and I've known you for half our years. _Sally._"

"Yes, of course, Madam Fisher," the butler said with a small grin. He coughed into a kerchief when the maid rolled her eyes.

"He's in the library, drooling on some books about The Old Kingdom and that late man, Lord Luc'en. Now get you gone, old man Jasper, so I can clean this mess." Sally grimaced when she noted the heaps of books and blankets scattered along the floor. "Light knows I've got my work cut out for me."

"Then a good day to you, Madam Fisher," Jasper said with a polite bow before heading to the library. The servants were busy cleaning the hallways and grand staircase, making sure that the railings and carpets hadn't the smallest of stains. The chefs bustled through the castle, barking commands this way and that as they scrambled to and fro the kitchens. The maids gave them hairy looks, dusters itching to swat them away and leave them to their work.

On his part, Jasper stepped around the servants carrying furniture and unrolling curtains, pausing to let the scrambling chefs hurry on by him. He stood before the library door, his clothes still perfectly pressed and unrumpled by the chaos about the castle. Clearing his throat, he rapped his knuckles against the door, the corners of his mouth twitching when he received a snore as a reply. He let himself into the room, glancing at the floor when the door bumped against a book. When he lifted his eyes, he saw that there was a tower of books propped against the door. The butler sighed and inched the door open, careful not to disturb the stack.

The prince was hunched over a desk, head pillowed by a book and mouth gaping open, and Jasper concluded that Madam Fisher was correct: The prince _was _drooling on a book no doubt detailing what little was known about The Old Kingdom. At the prince's feet was the royal canine, splayed out on his back with a paw twitching in time with grunts and snuffles.

Jasper blinked, gave the books another glance, and then tapped his heel against the bottom of the stack. He smiled when the tower collapsed, sending the prince jumping out of his chair—arms flailing, unruly hair flying, eyes bulging and struggling to adjust to morning's light. The dog whimpered and rolled to his feet, tongue lolling when he saw the butler.

"What a pair," Jasper mused to himself as he bent to straighten a chair the prince had toppled. "The kingdom is doomed."

"Jasper," the prince grunted as he plopped back into his chair. He groaned and rubbed his face when the butler pulled back a curtain. "It's light enough in here," he mumbled through his hands. "Shut the curtain."

"If I may say so, Your Highness, it is never too light." Something wet nudged his hand, and Jasper took in a breath when he discovered it to be the dog's nose. "Oh, don't you look at me like that," he said. He held a finger up, and the collie sat on his haunches and stared at him with wide eyes. "It isn't going to work this time, Sir Abbott."

"It works every time," the prince yawned. He laughed when Jasper relented with a click of his tongue, treated the dog with a biscuit, and pat him on the head.

Abbott wagged his tail and barked when Jasper pursed his lips at the drool coating his hand. "Yes, well," the butler started, wiping his fingers on his kerchief, "perhaps if my Prince would be so kind as to vacate the library for the rest of the afternoon, he may bathe and dress himself in appropriate clothing." When the prince and Abbott tilted their heads, the butler sighed. "No doubt you want to look your best for Lady Elise's arrival today, hm?" He raised a knowing eyebrow and hummed when the prince was on his feet in an instant, blubbering nonsense and tugging at his hair.

"Elise! _Of course! _How could I have forgotten?"

"The tales of Lord Lucien, may his evil schemes never be repeated, no doubt had your attention ensnared, my Prince."

"Oh, sod Lord Lucien and his—oh, excuse me for my obscenity, Jasper!" The prince stacked his books in a sloppy pile, bending pages and forgetting about bookmarks in his hurry. "She's here to see Logan off with the rest of the nobles—she'll be looking her best, I've to look my best too—Jasper, what do I _wear?" _

"If you will follow me, Prince Gideon, I've already taken the liberty of assorting two appropriate sets of clothing. Madam Fisher should be finishing tidying up your chambers, and I suspect she already has a bath drawn and waiting for you."

* * *

"Is it too much, Jasper?" Gideon asked as he tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Or is it not enough? Will she think that I take her too lightly if I'm not dressed in polished buttons and expensive fabrics?"

"If I may, my Prince," Jasper said. He adjusted the prince's collar and took a step back. "The nobles and staff are already anxious, what with your brother leaving the castle to convene with the aristocrats of Millfields. Perhaps by wearing modest attire, you will calm their spirits and make them feel more comfortable."

"It _is _uncharacteristic of him," Gideon agreed with a nod. He held his arms out as Jasper tucked the cuffs of his jacket into his gloves. "Logan hasn't left the castle in years. Usually he holes himself up in the war room with the nobles sniveling at his boots."

Jasper pressed his lips together and folded his hands behind his back. "Well, regardless of nobles 'sniveling' or not, your brother's word is law, my Prince." He paused, then added, "I would recommend avoiding him today; King Logan is rumored to be in an ill temper."

"When do I ever go looking for him?" Gideon snorted. He gave one last tug on his jacket laces, then whistled for Abbott. When the bedroom door clicked shut, Jasper stood, hands still clasped, and smiled when the prince came bounding back inside. "Jasper, where—"

"The gardens, Prince Gideon. Lady Elise awaits you in the gardens."

* * *

"Abbott! Let her be, boy!" Gideon laughed as he jogged over to the far end of the gardens to find Abbott planting kiss after kiss on a fair, golden-haired young lady. "He's missed you," Gideon said. He wrapped his arms about his dog and pulled him away from Elise, smiling up at her when she laughed and held her hands up to ward off another barrage of canine-kisses.

"I can see that," she beamed. Abbott barked and chose to whimper at the lady's heels. He lolled his tongue out when she offered him a pat with a dainty hand.

"Though, I'm afraid it's _my _job to kiss the fair maiden," Gideon mused with a cheeky grin. His smile only widened when Elise turned her head to the side.

"I'm afraid this fair maiden might prefer doggy kisses." She lowered her eyes and turned away from him, smiling when she felt his hands on her arms.

"Is that a challenge, m'lady?"

"Only if you take it as one, Prince Gide—" She was interrupted with his lips on hers, and she smiled into the kiss and raised a hand to cup his cheek. "You've been in the library again, haven't you," she murmured.

"How'd you know?" he hummed back.

"You haven't brushed your hair, darling."

Gideon froze, a rigid hand cutting through the air to feel the top of his head. His shoulders hunched when he felt his haphazard hair sticking up in odd ends and angles. _Jasper, you wily old man._

"It's alright, Gideon," she laughed, turning in his arms to rest her hands on the back of his neck. "You know I don't mind."

"I know that." He brushed his forehead against hers and let his thumbs toy with her sleeves. "But the nobles will mind. I suppose there's still time before we've to see my brother off, anyway." Elise frowned and let her arms fall back to her sides, making Gideon blink and follow her to a decorative wrought iron fence bordering the edges of the garden. "Have I said something wrong?"

"It's funny," she said, gripping the rails and peering down at the city below them, "that we should see a man off who has done so much damage to his country."

"What do you mean?" He stood beside her, following her gaze down to Bowerstone City. His eyes were drawn to the growing smokestacks of Bowerstone Industrial, and he felt a shiver creep up his spine when the factories became obscured by smog.

"You hear such terrible things," she whispered, "about your brother. Listen to this story: They say a factory worker was executed. I'm sure it's all just talk, but you can imagine how it upsets people. The staff in the castle are anxious, worried that _they _might be the next ones to…" She shook her head free of the thought. "They've to be perfect today for your brother, regardless of what he may or may not have done."

"Then it'd be best if I spoke with them," Gideon said. "Try to calm things down."

"Would you do that?" Elise pushed herself away from the fence to look at Gideon with hopeful eyes.

"If you think it will help," he offered with a shrug. "It can't hurt, can it?"

"But what do _you _think?"

"I…" He lowered his head, his brow furrowed, and sighed. Elise clasped his hand in hers, and he smiled when she ran her thumbs over his knuckles.

"The people may fear their king, Gideon, but they still care for their prince." She placed a quick peck on his hand and smiled when he trailed his fingers down her cheek.

"Then allow this good prince to take this young lady's hand," he said while twining his fingers with hers, "and escort her to the castle. We've a staff to speak with."

And escort her he did; they walked through the bright gardens, passing shrubberies, servants, fountains, flowers, climbing vines, and great oaks. They stole looks at one another, the young lady giving the good prince smiles of encouragement and hope. It was fairytale, a story that would have been revered and sung in ballads if the age had been Old. The good prince only spared one glance at the statue of their monarch, the finest stone cut into his likeness.

Long-legged and broad-shouldered, the King of Albion pointed north, directing his people to march forever forward.


End file.
